An Embarrassed Naked Girl

[Dalia]

Hi. I think you are all very weird.

I don't mean that as an insult. I am a very weird girl myself. But we are different types of weird. You are weird because you like to read stories about young girls being naked and humiliated. I am weird because I am one of those girls, and you don't live through what I have gone through and end up normal.

Are we incompatibly weird? I don't know. I hope not.

I was kind of shocked when I first found this site. I was looking for...advice, I guess? It feels silly to put it into words, but I was using Google while wondering if there might be some kind of 'support group' for girls who have been through what I have. After looking through a few topics I quickly figured out this was not what I was looking for!

Even though I didn't find what I wanted I couldn't look away. This place is so strange to me, so how could I avert my eyes? I read what felt like a lot but was probably only a few stories. They made me feel...weird. They are so much like what I went through but so different at the same time. It is like my life, but if all the horrible things I felt were subtracted and replaced with...I don't know. Good or fake-bad feelings? Like even when the girl is feeling bad, she is not feeling it for herself, she is feeling it for the people watching her. It is like there is some director telling her, "cut - this time, be miserable but do it sexier."

Which I know that is pretty much what a writer does! It is their job. I am not (that) dumb. I am just trying to describe my feelings of reading these things. I also don't know if writing like that is bad. Just because somebody's fantasy is my nightmare doesn't mean anything. They are just words in the end, right?

But then, these are just words too, and if these stories aren't hurting anyone then me saying what I want to say isn't going to hurt anyone either, right? I thought for a while about what to say, because I didn't want to just show up and tell you that you're all weird and your stories made me feel bad.

Also, they didn't even make me feel bad, exactly? They just felt wrong. Like when my sister sees software programmers or hackers on TV and complains about how none of that stuff is how it actually works.

So I want to tell you what being an "embarrassed naked girl" is actually like. Maybe it will give you some sympathy for them. Maybe you will show how sad and ruined they are after they are exposed. Maybe you will go the other way, and give them a happy ending, because you understand them now and want them to be okay at the end of your story. I don't know. Maybe you won't change anything at all, because fantasies are like TV hacking and it is supposed to be exciting and not realistic. I just felt like I needed to write this (I kind of have to force myself, because I feel so many things I know I need to do something, but I don't like thinking about it too much) and I hope it means something to you.

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I was a little older than 13 at the time. I think I looked pretty normal for my age. I hadn't gone through puberty yet though, so think young 13. I will say that if you had to guess how old I was from just a picture, you would guess 11 or 12 before you guessed 14 or 15.

I have a mom, and a sister who is 2 years older than me. My dad passed on when I was 7.

We are apparently from Israel, but we moved to America when I was 3 and we didn't go 'home' too often, so I feel like any other American. We lived in California but not on the coast, so it wasn't waves and surfing all the time like you see on TV. It was like any other city.

This day we did visit the beach, though. My mom got a new swimsuit for herself and a big floppy hat and sunglasses. My sister and I just wore our old swimsuits, but we had to drive for 2 hours to get there and I remember being excited. We didn't have very much money, so travel didn't happen a lot and going somewhere so far away felt like an adventure.

I remember having a pretty good time, mostly. I liked running around in all the sand and I got to play frisbee with some older kids. I was too scared to get into the ocean, though, even with my mom and my sister holding my hands. I had watched some show about sharks at some point and I didn't want to get eaten. In the second half of the day I was pretty cooked by the sun so I remember just hanging out in the shade under the docks (boardwalk? there weren't big boats or anything, IDK the proper name) and making structures and drawings in the sand. I was super determined to make a sand elephant statue and bring it home with me, I don't know why but I remember it clearly.

Once it got late my mom told me and my sister to go shower off. I really wish the showers at this beach were the normal basic "public fountain" ones, then I would've understood them better and none of this would have happened. But they were really nice ones, with small individual wooden stalls and benches in the middle of them all. It was kind of like an open air locker room.

There were other people showering at the time, so my sister went into the only open one and left me to wait with the bag (it had all our beach towels and stuff). She really could have just let me shower with her and again none of this would have happened, but this a good time to let you know that my sister was kind of a bitch at this age and tried to have as little to do with me as possible.

Honestly, a ton of this is her fault. I split the blame three ways equally between her, myself, and my mom.

A different shower opened up a minute after my sister went into her stall. This is where I have to explain my logic a little, because it made sense to me at the time but in retrospect I was so stupid and unobservant and I hate myself for it to the point where I feel like I probably deserve what happened to me. I know that's not true but sometimes I'm so mad at myself that's what it feels like.

Basically, I thought that taking a shower meant you had to be naked. It's what I did when I showered at home, it's what I did when I showered after gym, and nobody bothered to tell me otherwise about showering here. My mom never bothered to explain anything to me, I was just expected to magically know how things worked at a certain age. Are all parents like this? "you are 12 years old, how do you not know how to cook your own eggs?" Because you never showed me, mom, did you expect god to just beam this knowledge into my head or something? I am mad just thinking about it.

So, despite the fact that I had just clearly seen another woman leave the shower in a bikini (stupid, stupid, stupid), I took off my own little one piece, balled it up on top of the bag, and then went in to the stall to take a shower. I stayed in there for quite some time too, like it was a regular shower and not just a rinse, like it was the last shower I would ever get to take or something. I am pretty sure I got every grain of sand off of me.

Of course, when I got out of the shower, my sister was gone and so was the bag. I panicked and looked around for a little bit, but another woman got out of her shower so I ran back into my stall so she wouldn't see me. I was freaking out, not really embarrassed yet but scared I was going to get in trouble (we didn't have much money, so losing stuff was a big deal). I didn't know what to do, though, so I just curled up in the corner of the stall.

An older teen came to the stall I was in and saw me, said sorry, and left. I don't think he saw anything but I was still a little embarrassed. I had enough sense at least to turn the shower back on so people would hear it and nobody else would come in. I don't know how long I stayed like that. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes? Finally my sister came back. I guess she was looking around the beach trying to find me, because she was really mad.

She asked me where my suit was, I said it was in the bag. She said she had taken the bag to the car. I thought I would have to wait here a while longer and she would go get it, but for some reason she decided that it would be better to grab me by the wrist and drag me out of the stalls and the shower area entirely, back onto the beach.

I say "for some reason" but I have thought about this a lot. I think she was just in a bad mood from trying to find me and wanted to hurt me. My sister could be very sadistic towards me when she was that age. Every once in a while she would be nice to me, but for the most part I don't think she saw me as an actual person. Like when you burn ants or pull the wings off of a fly, you don't feel bad because they don't really matter (I actually do feel bad for insects, but I know a lot of people don't, and it is the best way to describe how I think my sister felt). Does anyone else have an older sister (or maybe brother) like that? Do you know what I mean?

This is the first part of the day where I felt actually humiliated. It is probably important to say here that my family wasn't big on making girls cover themselves up. You might have an image in your head of how girls from the middle east are forced to dress, but Israel doesn't really treat its women like other middle eastern countries do. We have a lot of freedom there, and Israeli living in America are just as free. Most of the time I just wore shorts and tshirts like any other American girl, and at home I might wear just panties down to breakfast, or even all day if it was too hot (we didn't have AC and summers got hot). So it wasn't like this was super against our culture or anything, I don't want to give that impression.

But being nearly-naked at home with just my mom and my sister was completely different from being dragged across a beach full of strangers stark naked. I think that is against basically anyone's culture. I was freaking out and trying to fight against my sister, but she was much bigger than me. I had one hand free, but that wasn't enough to cover myself. Probably if you are older you think you would cover your privates in this situation, but at the time I remember being very upset that people were seeing my butt. I think when someone is embarrassed and naked in cartoons, you usually only see their butts, so to me that was the part of me that nobody should be seeing.

I feel like a lot of people were staring at me. Again my body wasn't very much to look at, probably if i had been calm I would've just been overlooked as some naked little kid walking with her sister. It was the fact that I was fighting and causing a scene. At the time it didn't matter why they were looking, though, because at the end of the day it was strangers seeing my naked body.

My sister dragged me and my bare butt across half the beach, it felt like. I don't know if there are words to describe how it felt. My heart was beating really fast and I guess I was technically "excited", but not in the way girls in your stories usually are. I was sick with adrenaline. I felt like I was going to throw up or faint or pee myself. I felt exposed, but like in an unsafe way on top of the naked way. It is hard to describe. Maybe like when you're in a dark room and you don't have your blanket around you? It was terrifying. I felt weak and helpless, because there was nothing I could do against my sister.

You feel weak a lot as a kid, I think. One time in like 3rd grade a weird girl wanted to give me "a tattoo" that was really just her drawing on people in sharpie marker. In one of my rare bursts of wisdom I told her "no thank you, be on your way", but her friends pinned me down and she lifted up my shirt and drew all sorts of dumb looking flowers and suns and stuff on my stomach. One boy held my legs and one girl held my arms, and I struggled as hard as I could but I couldn't get free or stop myself from getting drawn on. I got in trouble at home for having marker all over me, but my punishment was nothing compared to the helplessness I felt at not being able to stop something I didn't want from happening to me. I can't think of any better way to put it, I think that lack of control really messes you up as a kid.

At some point I stopped fighting my sister as much (maybe I just gave up on life, it is hard to remember) and she led me over to where my mom was. It was one of those tables with built in benches. My mom had bought us all hamburgers and fries.

I think the conversation went something like this:

Mom: "Finally. You girls take forever. Why is Dalia naked?"
Sister: "She took off her suit to shower."
Mom: "Goodness, Dalia. Well where is it?" (She is paranoid about us losing expensive things, even though honestly it was a pretty cheap suit)
Sister: "I think it is in the bag in the car."
Mom: "Well, sit down and eat before it all gets cold."

I think this makes my mom sound weird. Well, she still kind of is no matter what way you slice it, but I have thought a lot about her logic. It is probably a lot like my sister's logic, where she just didn't see me as a proper person yet. Remember that I still looked basically like a little kid. So I think she was exasperated with me but did not think I had anything "womanly" to worry about showing yet. Plus maybe she assumed since I didn't wear anything around the house I didn't have any shame and I was okay with being naked, or maybe she just didn't take my feelings into account as very important. She had paid good money for the food (fast food was a treat at my house) and she didn't want it to go to waste for a "dumb" reason.

I kind of let myself be maneuvered into a sitting position on the bench (it was one of those splinter-y benches with chipped paint, so it was uncomfortable and I was taking my life into my hands by sitting on it, but it felt less exposed than standing. I think I thought maybe people would assume I was wearing bikini bottoms if they couldn't see my butt? I was still deeply concerned about people seeing my butt.) My mom then tried to put food in front of me and make me eat, but I put my foot down at that point. I made a whole ass scene: I slapped the table, stomped my foot, possibly yelled and cried a little. Somebody was going to get me some motherfucking (I did not say this word but it was how I felt) clothes to wear.

Eventually my mom gave my sister the car keys and told her to get my suit. My sister then rudely handed them to me and told me to get them myself. She had such a bad attitude that day. I don't know where she got the nerve. I wish had half as much nerve that day. I wish that I had continued to throw a tantrum and demand that she or my mom do it while I hid under the table.

Really what should have happened was that my mom should have objected to sending the naked 13 year old girl across the beach by herself, but she seemed fine with it. I think because she was fine with it I felt like I didn't have grounds to object, because if my sister was in the wrong wouldn't my mom have said so and made her do it?

So like the dumb, compliant little idiot I was I got up and headed off to get my swimsuit. My legs felt weak, like they didn't want to support me. It still felt like I needed to throw up. I think in the moment everything felt almost surreal, like I was having wave after wave of vertigo, and the world kept flipping upside down and then rightside up. Nothing felt exactly real.

That is only my analysis of it after the fact. In the moment I would have said (if anyone bothered to ask, which they didn't) that I felt "dizzy and bad", and like I couldn't hold in my pee and needed to go right then and there.

I walked away from the bench and towards the general direction of where the car was parked. I won't cover the entire journey because I honestly don't remember it blow-for-blow and a lot of it is the same feeling of horribleness, but I will highlight parts that stood out to me and things I focused on in the aftermath.

First, my mother continued to just not tell me about things and assumed I knew. Where were we parked? I had no clue. Why would I know that? I didn't need to remember, I was 13, all I had to do was tag after my mom at the end of the day. I was an especially dumb kid who didn't pay attention to stuff, but damn, I don't think it was all my fault. Getting mad again thinking about it. Tell your kids stuff, they don't know anything and they're too scared to ask you, ok?

I didn't really have a strategy, I just stumbled in a sad, shaky daze across the sand until I found the area I remembered us being in when we arrived. I didn't cover up or anything, it didn't cross my mind at this point that it would help hide my butt, I just kept a death grip on the keys and kept moving forward.

I remember there was a gravelly section that hurt my bare feet. It was like some cruel joke. I had to go extra slow and step as lightly as possible when I got to that part, prolonging my nakedness. In a way I feel like the pain calmed me down a little, though? I was super upset still, don't get me wrong, but it made me focus on something else besides how exposed and humiliated I was.

Basically everyone ignored me. I wonder if they just didn't want to get involved? I still mostly think they saw me as a little kid and nothing about my body was very scandalous, so they didn't see a reason to panic. One man asked me if I was lost though (I was), and I panicked hard and ran off at a full sprint and hid underneath some docks until he went away.

I think I mostly want you to understand how ashamed, terrified, and upset I felt. I wasn't scared of the man really, I was terrified of something more abstract. Social rules, maybe? I was supposed to be wearing clothes and I wasn't, and everyone could see. It was the worst day of my life. I was so thoroughly humiliated...I was debased and degraded. Please really really think about those two words and their meanings, because the surface level doesn't do my feelings justice. That day I felt like I had my dignity, my status as a full human being stripped away. I wasn't a proper person anymore - an animal, maybe? Actually no, I'd say I did not feel like an animal, because animals occupy the station they were meant to. An animal is supposed to be naked and dirty and pee on the ground outside - which, by the way, I ended up finally losing that battle with my bladder and doing after a few minutes spent hiding and shaking beneath the dock. At the time I felt like the lowest of lowly creatures. I wasn't an animal because I wasn't meant to be in the state I was, doing the things I was doing. Animals were my betters. I was a fallen child, a failed person.

(I know this sounds super dramatic and overly thoughtful for a 13 year old. Again, I did not literally think these thoughts then, I am just trying to write truthfully and use words that give proper weight to what I was feeling at the time. I'm 28 now so I have a lot more perspective on the situation and a better vocabulary.)

it was like releasing my bladder released everything inside of me. I had myself a miniature breakdown in the relative privacy underneath the docks, runny nose and tears and ugly sobbing. After some time of this I pull myself together enough to keep going. Snot was running down my chin with nowhere to wipe it. My eyes were puffy and I could barely see where I was going through my tears. I wasn't used to peeing in a weird crouch without a toilet, so there was some pee running down my leg and some spattered over my feet. This level of detail is honestly a bit more than I feel comfortable writing, not because it's so extreme (I've read worse on here) but because it is a little too close to reliving it. The point I am trying to make is that, trust me, I was the least sexiest thing ever at that point in time.

I crossed even more god damned gravel (it was the parking lot material), walking back and forth until I found our car. This next part is going to sound really dumb, but keep in mind that I was having a really hard time and again, my mom never bothered to explain anything to me ever. I couldn't figure out how to open the car. There were like four different buttons on the key fob, and my mom had more than one key on her ring. If you are an ignorant kid, how are you supposed to know? I was also terrified I would hit the wrong button and an alarm or something would go off, and the entire beach would come running to look at pathetic naked Dalia.

I was too humiliated to function at this point. I was too embarrassed to exist. I felt so dumb and exposed and just...beneath everything and everyone else. I fully just lay down prone on the ground and had a mental break from reality. I vividly remember my face, chest, stomach, legs, feet, arms, hands all pressed into the gravel, tiny points of pain all over as I sobbed into the parking lot. I don't think anyone else was around at the time, or otherwise they decided to avoid the insane naked girl scream-crying at the Earth. At one point I may have ended up in the fetal position, it seems pretty likely, but I only remember the face down part.

I admit to being an emotional little girl sometimes, but I don't think I was being dramatic there or taking my situation harder than I should have. My emotional wellbeing had taken all that it could for the day, and my brain just fully snapped in the face of the tiniest obstacle. It was too much stress and shame for a 13 year old girl to take.

I eventually ran out of tears and my voice grew hoarse, and I had nothing left to do but lie there and wait for my family to find me, or do something. I pulled myself to my feet and used shaking hands to go through the keyring. In the end I am dumb but not that dumb, and I found the key that had the same symbol as our car on it and use it to open the door.

In the moment I was ashamed that I was such an idiot that I didn't do that in the first place. You have no idea how down on myself I was feeling. I was embarrassed about every goddamn thing about myself. In retrospect, though? That is about the only thing from that day I am proud of. I seriously could have just laid there in the parking lot feeling like useless, helpless, worthless, naked trash and waited for my mom to come save me. Instead I decided to feel like useless, helpless, worthless, naked trash while actively working to save myself. It's a small and pathetic thing, but it is something I have clung to in the years since, and I like to think it has made the difference. It might be the same impulse that made me write all of this instead of just quietly closing the browser tab and going to hide away somewhere.

Anyway, I opened the car door, dug around through the bag, and found the clothes I wore on the ride over. Shorts and a tshirt. I dried the remnants of pee on my legs and feet on my sister's shorts and wiped my snot on her shirt out of righteous sisterly spite, then I got dressed. It didn't feel like I was wearing enough and I couldn't find my sandals but they had to do. I still couldn't stop shaking as I walked back to the table with my family, and my stomach still felt empty after I ate the cold burger and fries my mom didn't want to go to waste.

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That's the day that ruined my life, but it's not the whole story. What happened after is probably even more important. Because that's the thing, I am a real person and my story didn't end after I was naked and embarrassed.

I really wish I could have shrugged it off. I think the problem was that it happened in the middle of summer, and there wasn't school or anything like that to distract me. I had nothing but time to sit around, being miserable and thinking about that day over and over again, baking it into my mind.

First, I stopped putting up with my sister's attitude. Whenever she was mean to me I felt this impossibly large rage inside me, and I would start screaming my little lungs out at her, full volume. That or I would just start swinging crazily at her, clawing and biting if I had to. I had no regard for human life during these fights, she had already ruined me and I wasn't going to take it anymore. I say that like there was some kind of logic to it, but really I was just in an blind unthinking fury. She stopped picking on me after that, I think she was scared of me but mostly scared for me.

To this day I have a weird relationship with clothes. At first I wore heavier long-sleeved stuff, but (probably for the best) it was still summer and the oppressive heat broke me of that real fast. Probably the weirdest thing I did during that time though is that whenever my mom or sister asked if I was hot, I would strip down to my underwear on the spot or sometimes completely naked (obviously this was when it was just the three of us in the apartment, I didn't do this just anywhere or in front of anybody). I literally don't know what was going through my mind - maybe it was like I was still that 'less than a person' thing in my mind, and I felt like I was trying to pretend to be a person by covering up my shame with heavy clothes. So when my mom or sister "called me out" by asking if I was hot, it was like the jig was up and needed to come clean and go back to my natural state. I don't think that was exactly the logic, it's just my best guess because my head was a mess for a little while and I don't even know what I was thinking sometimes.

That brings me to another thing. You'd think that a girl who was humiliated and naked would overcompensate by dressing in too much clothes, and to an extent I did, but it wasn't that simple either. For the most part, I just hated thinking about my body and I still kind of do. I didn't want to acknowledge that I had one, and that led to some counterintuitive behavior.

I was...not great at taking showers for a while. I was kind of smelly for a few good months after that shower at the beach. I'm still not great at hygiene, but I force myself to clean up a few times week because you sweat a lot here and really I don't like feeling or smelling gross. I'm also not excellent at taking care of myself. My doctor says I am a healthy weight though a little on the skinny side, and that I am getting enough exercise, and that is good enough for me. It's pure luck; I don't really focus on what I eat or on keeping fit, because again, that would involve giving my body too much attention.

Puberty was a bitch, I'll just say it. I didn't want to wear a bra even when I started to need one. I honestly barely need one even now, but I still look "nipply" without one in the wrong shirt and my mom had to fight to get me into one. Sorry mom. These days I still won't wear one if I can get away with it - a lot of times I just use bandaids, I look fine and it makes me feel (mentally) more comfortable than a bra. I guess because it feels like I'm still not womanly, and people therefore have no reason to look at me or pay attention to me? I hate people giving me too much attention, at least in person.

Again, you'd think not wanting attention would mean not wanting to have my nipples poking through my shirt, but tell that to my brain. I think I was happier pretending that they weren't even a thing.

Speaking of not wanting attention, my relationships with the opposite sex were and are basically nonexistent. I'm sure that's no surprise. For the record I am more comfortable and confident around other women, because I think my brain assumes they're interested in me instead of my body, but... first, that's probably just sexist thinking passed down from my mom, and second as counterintuitive as it sounds I don't think I can just base my entire sexuality around which gender makes my weird brain more anxious. I mean, I'm comfortable around my sister but I wouldn't have that sort of relationship with her. The same logic applies to men and women, I don't know if I really get to pick like that. If I just go with comfort I might miss out on being actually happy, if I discover I don't in fact 'swing that way'. Do you know what I mean?

Normally I wear jeans and a hoodie. If it's hot, I will wear the least amount that I can bear wearing, which barefoot with a spaghetti top and short-ish shorts. It has taken me a while to get to this and I am pretty proud of it. I am told that I still dress pretty childishly, though, which makes sense. I don't really want to be seen as "womanly". Maybe because I saw my childish body as some sort of protection on the beach? I honestly don't know. If my sister had been the one walking naked across the beach, she'd have gotten a ton more attention I am sure.

I am kind of skipping around chronologically, but I should also mention my work and living situation. I was a dumb kid, but man I was a smart one, with A's and B's in school. That next school year and all the ones after my grades tanked. I didn't flunk out, but I barely passed, and I had no prospects. I have held a few part-time positions, but I don't currently have a proper job and I don't have many skills. I feel almost frozen in time at that day in the beach, like I haven't improved or changed since then.

I absolutely refuse to end this without mentioning who my sister is now. She is the one who did this to me, yes, but she was 15 and I blame a lot of it on how we were raised. Unlike me she has grown a lot since then, and I have fully forgiven her for what she did even if I don't think she has really forgiven herself.

She is now my best friend. She works at a medium size tech-company in the area and I live in the second bedroom of her apartment. She doesn't charge me rent, and she pays me $25 a day to take care of her dog (kind of our dog) while she's out at work. We also hang out almost every evening and watch our favorite TV shows. It's all way too generous of her, but I know she just loves and is worried about me. I am completely comfortable around her. I can be naked around her and neither of us will bat an eye.

She says that I should go to college (and claims that I was always the smart one). She also wants me to go to therapy, but it's a touchy subject between us and I refuse to go if I would be spending her money. She is already doing so much for me. I would probably go if I could pay for it myself but since I can't hold a job it's a catch-22, isn't it?

I feel pretty comfortable being naked around our dog too, but not in a weird way. Or at least not in that sort of weird way. Our dog loves me completely and unconditionally, regardless of what I wear, and all of my shame seems silly in her soft, unjudging eyes. You know how I said I felt lower than even an animal that day, because they were meant to be naked and dirty and I was not? Well, she reminds me that I am just an animal too, a hairless monkey that is a little bit clever, and that there's nothing wrong with me being dirty or naked.

It's not like I go streaking around the apartment in front of my sister or our dog all the time, quite the opposite, but I do try to push some of the unhealthy boundaries I've placed on myself and sometimes just spending a day being a naked monkey hanging out in my apartment with my lovely naked dog is a relaxing way to do that.

God, I just read those last two paragraphs that I wrote. I'm so weird. Please don't judge me too much. I can't emphasize enough how thoroughly that one single day messed me up and altered the trajectory of my entire life in the worst way possible. I feel like I am stuck at that beach, in a way, still 13 years old, barefoot on sharp gravel, naked and afraid and worthless with pee running down my leg.

This was probably a rough read and was even rougher to live, but please don't worry too much about that little 13 year old. I know that I'm a mess, but all the craziness of 2020 has put things in perspective. (Plus, random upside, I learned that I can apparently wear anything I want as long as I'm wearing a facemask or a scarf! It's like I'm 'no longer me', maybe because people can't recognize me, and my brain no longer freaks out? It's like a secret identity sort of. I wore my sister's dressy, womanly clothes to the grocery store and didn't feel like a fraud. I could probably streak up and down my street as long as my face is covered, though I'm obviously not gonna. It's a serious game changer.) It's time for me to move forward. I'm applying to part time jobs and colleges for when the pandemic is over. Remember, if there is one little saving grace, one scrap of grit I can call my own, it's that I do get up from the gravel, blink the tears out of my eyes, and keep going in the end. She's gonna save herself.

Maybe instead, save your worry for the girls in your stories? I don't know if we can even understand one another, and I don't know what I'm even hoping to accomplish. I just wanted to offer a different perspective, a bit of a peek at a grimier reality beyond your fantasies. Possibly an unwanted peek, sorry if so.

I guess my hope is that if you're going to write about embarrassed naked girls, you'll now write with understanding and love for them in your heart. Love them enough to tell their story true, ugliness and all, or tell a beautiful lie that lets them be happy or better for the experience, in the end. If you choose to do neither, I understand. I'm just some random person who stumbled across your site and who needed to share her story.

Love,
An Embarrassed Naked Girl
Dalia

[Hooked6]

Daila, this was a very well-written story and you captured your emotions very well. I enjoyed reading your account and hope that you share other stories that you have written. I suspect you experienced other embarrassing situations after the beach incident and I am sure we all would like to hear about them. Thanks for sharing.

Hooked6

[Revengedpirate]

Good story, well written, enjoyed it. Please write more your good at expression and emotion.

[Dalia]

No, I have done everything in my power since then to avoid being naked and embarrassed. So I have no more stories for you.

Actually, wait, here is one more for you. About 9 or 10 years ago I was shopping at the supermarket. I accidentally stumbled while pushing the cart and stepped out of my flip-flop. I learned that supermarket floors are sticky and gross. I put my flip-flop back on, but I think a worker saw me. I finished shopping and went home and cried. I thought about that moment for maybe a month or two afterwards.

That is what a humiliating story is to me these days. My threshold for embarrassment is way lower than any normal girl's. It is kind of like getting an old injury poked at. The tiniest little incident feels like the worst thing in the world to me, even if I know it's not, and it can leave me off balance for days or weeks afterwards.

I am getting better, but it is a slow process. So I don't think my stories of other "embarrassing situations" since the beach will interest you very much, sorry.